CHAPTER XXIII
THE INEVITABLE
"I very much regret having to trouble you, Miss Merlin, at such atime," said Inspector Gatton, "but as the paper lodged with you by thelate Sir Eric Coverly may throw some light upon a very dark matter,perhaps you will read it to us."
I watched the play of expression upon Isobel's face with a depth ofsympathy which I cannot attempt to describe. The successive trialswhich had been imposed upon her in so short a time had robbed hercheeks of their sweet color and there were dark shadows under hereyes. The tumult of my own feelings was such that I was scarcelycapable of consistent thought nor had I the moral courage to examinethose emotions which stirred so wildly within me.
Late on the previous night I had performed the unhappy duty ofbreaking to her the news of Coverly's dreadful death. I shall neverforget that black hour. Her courage, however, under all these trialshad been admirable, and although I well knew what it must have costher, she replied now with perfect composure:
"Look--I took it out of my bureau when I heard that you were here,Inspector."
She took up from the table a foolscap envelope sealed and having hername written upon it in large and somewhat unsteady characters.
"I would suggest," said Gatton, with a delicacy which earned mygratitude, "that you read it yourself first, Miss Merlin. If there isanything helpful in it you can then communicate it to me."
I saw Isobel biting her lip hard, but she resolutely tore open theenvelope; and leaving her to read the contents, I joined Gatton at thewindow. We both stood staring out for what seemed a very long time,then:
"It is rather long," said Isobel in a low voice.
Gatton and I turned together, and saw her, looking even more pale thanbefore, seated by the table holding a sheet of notepaper in her hand.Without glancing at either of us, she began to read as follows, in aneven and monotonous voice which I knew she had adopted to hide heremotion:
"This account of my movements on the night of August 6th will only be read in the event of my being falsely adjudged guilty of the murder of my cousin, Marcus Coverly, or in the event of my death.
"On the afternoon of that date I was informed over the telephone that my fiancee, Isobel Merlin, was meeting Sir Marcus the same night at a place called the Red House. The address was given me and I was asked, in case I doubted the word of the speaker, to watch Miss Merlin's movements that evening.
"I had already quarreled with my cousin respecting his unwelcome attentions and although the result did not confirm the promise of the informant, in part at least the information was accurate. I have no idea of the speaker's identity except that the voice was the voice of a woman.
"Not desiring to trust any one in such a matter I, myself, obtained in a remote district the dilapidated garments which are now in the possession of the police and respecting which they have subjected me to close examination. Attired in these and having my face and hands artificially dirtied as a further disguise, I left my chambers by a back entrance about nine o'clock, and not having sufficient confidence in my make-up to enter a public vehicle, walked the whole of the way to College Road.
"I had little difficulty in finding the Red House, but on discovering that it was vacant, I immediately suspected a hoax. However, I determined to wait in the neighborhood until the time at which the voice had warned me the meeting was to take place. There were very few people about and a tremendous downfall of rain drenched me to the skin, for the only shelter afforded was that of the trees bordering the road unless I had been content to abandon my watch.
"Just before the downpour ceased but after it had abated its first fury, I came out from my inadequate shelter and began to walk in the direction of the High Street. I had not gone more than twenty paces when I saw a cab approaching, and the man, seeing my bedraggled figure, slowed up, and to my astonishment asked me the way to the Red House.
"I immediately peered into the cab--to find that the passenger was none other than Marcus Coverly. I had begun to doubt, but at this I doubted no longer. I gave the cabman the necessary directions and, slowly following on foot, I saw from the shelter of the trees on the opposite side of the road, Sir Marcus dismiss the cab and walk up the drive of the empty house.
"He was alone, and since I knew that Miss Merlin had not preceded him, I could only conclude that she would be following later. Accordingly I walked slowly away from the Red House again in the direction of the High Street, and some five minutes later I passed a constable accompanied by a man wearing a light Burberry and a soft hat, whom I knew later (although I failed to recognize him at the time) to have been Mr. Jack Addison.
"I stood at the corner by the High Street until long after midnight. Twice I returned to the Red House and once even penetrated as far as the porch; but although I thought I could detect a light shining out through the shutters of the room on the right of the door, I could not be sure of it and there was no sound of movement within.
"These were my only discoveries, and very wretched and dissatisfied I tramped back to my chambers wondering what the visit of Marcus Coverly to this apparently empty house could mean and why he had remained there, but particularly wondering why the voice had told me this part-truth which had turned me into a spy unavailingly.
"The discovery made at the docks on the following day placed a new and dreadful construction upon the motives of the speaker, and I awakened to the fact that although entirely innocent of any complicity I had laid myself open to a charge of having been concerned in the murder of my cousin.
"My ill-advised attempt to conceal the garments which I had used as a disguise, and of which I had not known how to dispose, was dictated by panic. I knew the police were watching me and I was fool enough to think that I could escape their vigilance.
"This is all I have to say. It explains nothing and it does not exonerate me, I am aware, but I swear that it is the truth,"
"(Signed) ERIC COVERLY, Bart."
Although she retained so brave a composure I recognized the strainwhich this new and cruel ordeal had imposed upon Isobel; and Gattonincurred a further debt of gratitude by his tactful behavior, for:
"Miss Merlin," he said earnestly--"you are a very brave woman. Thankyou. I only wish I could have spared you this."
Shaking me warmly by the hand, he bowed and departed, leaving me alonewith Isobel.
As the sound of his footsteps died away Isobel returned again to theseat from which she had risen; and a silence fell between us. My ownfeelings I cannot attempt to depict, but I will confess that I wasafraid of my humanity at that moment. Never had Isobel seemed moredesirable; never had I longed as I longed now to take her in my arms.
The tension of that silence becoming insupportable:
"You will not stay here alone?" I asked in an unnatural voice.
Isobel, without looking up, shook her head.
"I am going to Mrs. Wentworth--my Aunt Alison," she replied.
"Good," I said. "I am glad to know that you will be in her cheerycompany."
Mrs. Wentworth was, indeed, a charming old lady, and so far as I knew,Isobel's only relation in London, if not in England. She occupied ahouse which, like herself, was small, scrupulously neat andold-worldly. One of those tiny residences which, once counted as being"in the country," had later become enmeshed in the ever-spreadingtentacles of greater London.
It was situated on the northern outskirts of the county-city, andalthough rows of modern "villas" had grown up around it, within thewalls of that quaint little homestead one found oneself far enoughremoved from suburbia.
"When are you going, Isobel?" I asked.
"I think," she replied, "in the morning."
"Will you let me drive you in the Rover?--or are you taking too
muchbaggage?"
"Oh, no," she said, smiling sadly--"I am going to live the simple lifefor a week. Going out shopping with Aunt Alison--and perhaps sometimesto the pictures!"
"Then I can drive you over?"
"Yes--if you would like to," she answered simply.
I took my leave shortly afterwards and proceeded to the _Planet_office. I had work to do, but I must admit that I little relished theidea of returning to my cottage. Diverted, now, from the notorious RedHouse, public interest had centered upon my residence, and theseclusion which I had gone so far to seek was disturbed almost hourlyby impertinent callers who seemed to think that the scene of asensational crime was public property.
Coates had effectually disillusioned several of them on this point,but, nevertheless, the cottage had become distasteful to me. Irealized that I must seek a new residence without delay. Shall I addthat the primary cause of my reclusion no longer operated sopowerfully? Of my dreams at this time I will speak later; but here Imay say that I knew, and accepted the knowledge with a fearful joy,that if my new house of hope was doomed to be shattered, no spot inbroad England could offer me rest again.
It was not then, until late that night, that I returned to my oncepeaceful abode. Coates was waiting up for me, but he had nothing ofimportance to report, apparently, until, when I had dismissed him, heturned in the doorway, and:
"Excuse me, sir," he said--and cleared his throat.
"Yes, Coates?"
"About half an hour ago, sir, the dogs all around started howling,sir. I thought I'd better mention it, as Inspector Gatton asked methis morning if I had ever heard the dogs howling."
I looked at him straightly.
"Inspector Gatton asked you thus?"
"He did, sir. So I have reported the occurrence. Good night, sir."
"Good night, Coates," I replied.
But for long enough after his departure I sat there in the armchair inmy study, thinking over this seemingly trivial occurrence. From whereI sat I could see the light shining upon the gilt-lettered title ofMaspero's "Egyptian Art"--and my thoughts promised to be illbedfellows.
Contrary to custom, I slept that night with closed windows! Andalthough I awakened twice, once at two o'clock and again at four,thinking that I had heard the mournful signal of the dogs, nothing butmy own uneasy imagination disturbed my slumbers.
Breakfast despatched, and my correspondence dealt with, I sent Coatesto the garage for my little car, and since I should have anothercompanion, left him behind, and myself drove to Isobel's flat.Woman-like, she was not nearly ready, and there was much bustling onthe part of the repentant Marie--who had been retained in spite of hershare in the tragedy of Sir Marcus's death--before we finally set outfor Mrs. Wentworth's.
Isobel was very silent on the way, but once I intercepted a sidelongglance and felt my heart leaping madly when she blushed.
Mrs. Wentworth made me very welcome as had ever been her way. She wasan eccentric, but embarrassingly straightforward old lady; and if Ihad heeded her simple motherly counsel in the past all might have beendifferent.
She bore Isobel off to her room, leaving me to my own devices, for shehad never observed any ceremony towards me in all the years that I hadknown her, but had taught me to make myself at home beneath herhospitable roof. I knew, too, because she had never troubled todisguise the fact, that she regarded Isobel and me as made for oneanother. Isobel's engagement to poor Eric Coverly, Mrs. Wentworth hadall along regarded as a ghastly farce, and I can never forget herreception of me on the occasion of my first visit after returning fromMesopotamia.
Half an hour or so elapsed, then, before Isobel returned; and,although she came into the room confidently enough, the old tensionreasserted itself immediately. I felt that commonplaces would chokeme. And although to this day I cannot condone my behavior, for thegood of my soul I must confess the truth.
I took her in my arms, held her fast and kissed her.
An overwhelming consciousness of guilt came to me even as her lipsmet mine, and, releasing her, I turned aside, groaning.
"Isobel!" I said hoarsely--"Isobel, forgive me! I was a cad, avillain ... to _him_. But--it was inevitable. Try to forget thatI was so weak. But, Isobel--"
I felt her hand trembling on my arm.
"We must _both_ try to forget, Jack," she whispered.
I grasped her hands and looked eagerly--indeed I think wildly--intoher eyes.
"Because my life is over if I lose you," I said, "I suppose I was madfor a moment. Tell me that one day--when it is fit and proper that youshould do so--you will give me a hearing, and I will perform anypenance you choose. I acted like a blackguard."
"Stop!" she commanded softly.
She raised her eyes, and her grave, sweet glance cooled the feverwhich consumed me and brought a great and abiding peace to my heart.
"You were no more to blame than I!" she said. "And because--Iunderstand, it is not hard to forgive. I don't try to excuse myself,but even if--_he_--had lived, I could never have gone on with it,after his ... suspicions. Oh, Jack! why did you leave me to make thatawful mistake?"
"My dearest," I replied, "God knows I have suffered for it."
"Please," she said, and her voice faltered, "help me to be fair to ..._him_. Never--never--speak to me again--like that ... until--"
But the sentence was never completed; for at this moment in bustledAunt Alison--in appearance a white-haired, rosy-faced little matron,very brisk in her movements and very shrewd-eyed. A dear old lady,dearer than ever to me in that she had tried so hard to bring Isobeland my laggard self together. She had, as usual, more to say thancould be said in the time at her disposal. As we proceeded to thedining-room:
"Now then, you boys and girls, I'm starving, if you're not. What atime I've had with cook, not knowing when you might be here. Cook'sleaving to be married: I'm afraid she's neglected this sea-kale. Dear,dear! what love will do for people's minds, to be sure. Put your hairstraight, Isobel, dear, or Mary will think Jack has been kissing you!I saw her kiss the postman yesterday. Mary, I mean! You're eating likea pigeon, Jack! Gracious me! Where's the pepper? Mary! Ring the bell,Isobel. I must speak to that postman; he's made Mary forget to put anypepper in the cruet, and any one might have seen them. It isn'trespectable!"
"Dear Aunt Alison!" I said, as the active old lady ran out (Mary notbeing promptly enough in attendance). "She loves to keep running inand out like a waiter! What a friend she has been to me, Isobel! Youcould not be in better company at such a time."
"She's a darling!" agreed Isobel, and when I met her glance across thetable she blushed entrancingly.
Then, in a moment, tears were in her eyes; and knowing of whom she wasthinking, I sat abashed--guilty and repentant. I had transgressedagainst the murdered man; and there and then I made a solemn, silentvow that no word of love again should pass my lips until the fit andproper time of mourning was over. Because I faithfully kept this vow,I dare to hope that my sin is forgiven me.
Luncheon at that homely house, with Isobel, was an unalloyed delight;and I regretted every passing minute which brought me nearer to thetime when I must depart. But when at last I said good-by it was a newworld upon which I looked--a new life upon which I entered. I havesaid that to-day I venture to hope my poor human transgression isforgiven me. Yet it did not go unpunished. Little did I dream, in mystrange new happiness, how soon I was to return to that house--howsoon I was to know the deadliest terror of my life.